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The Royal Army Medical Corps
The Royal Army Medical Corps was formed in 1898 but the history of medics in the Army can be traced back to the foundation of the Regular Army, following the restoration of King Charles II in 1660. The RAMC motto is In Arduis Fidelis, translated as Faithful in Adversity.
Units during the Second World War.
- 9th Field Ambulance.
- 132nd Field Ambulance.
- 214th Field Ambulance.
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List of those who served with The Royal Army Medical Corps during The Second World War
- Patrick James Cullenat Read his Story.
- Pte. Joseph "Smokey Joe" Gardner Read his Story.
- Private Albert Howard 214 Field Ambulance, 'B' Company Read his Story.
- Major Percy " " Howe Read his Story.
- Bert Key Read his Story.
- Major James Stirling "Seamus" Kinnear Read his Story.
- William Schofield "Mac " Mc Knight Read his Story.
- Captain Hugh Davidson Miller George Medal Read his Story.
- Alisdair " " Murray (d.May 1940) Read his Story.
- Cpl. Daniel O'Callaghan Read his Story.
- Cpl. Reginald Walter Smith 12 Company Read his Story.
- Corporal Albert Edward Wood Read his Story.
- Pte. Andrew "Sonny" Wright Read his Story.
- Arthur Alexander "Alex" Cook. Read his Story
- Sgt. Bernard Cummings Allcock. 132nd Field Ambulance. Read his story
- Charles Donald. Read his Story
- William John Jenkins Read his Story
- Reg Gill
- Clarence Graham. Read his Story
- Paul Riley Read his Story
- Captain Stevenson. 9th Field Ambulance
- Weeks. Read his Story
Private Albert Howard 214 Field Ambulance, 'B' Company Royal Army Medical Corps.
Albert Howard was my uncle, who was born 5th October 1919 in Londons' East End, the son of a Port of London Authority policeman also named Albert. Shortly before the outbreak of WW2 he enlisted in the Royal Army Medical Corps as 7348810 Pte. Howard, A.E. He joined 'B' Company of 214 Field Ambulance. By Christmas 1942 his unit was in North Africa, from where he sent my mother a Photostat greetings card, which I have inherited together with a number of Aerogram letters. In one dated June 1943, he writes of spending four days in a rest camp, where "... there is good swimming in the sea and a bus service to the town, where there are good service clubs and cinemas. You know that the King came out here recently, and we were inspected by him. I need not say what sort of preparations had to be made for the Royal visit!!!" In October 1943 he writes: "I can now tell you what you may already have guessed, that we are in Italy." He continues: "The towns are not up to much now, as you can imagine, but the people received us in a fairly friendly fashion." Later that month he writes: "We are in action in Italy, as you may have guessed. It is not too bad really. Sometimes we are very busy, and sometimes there is very little to do. The worst thing is the noise, which at times is deafening. Most of it is ours though. We get a lot of shelling now and again - though not dangerously close." On 23rd December '43 he writes: "...There is not much doing here at present, except getting ready for Christmas. He sent a few quite brief Photostat letters until 25th June 1944, when he reported that he had been in hospital suffering from impetigo, which had cleared up nicely. That however must have been when he 'went into the bag.' His next communication is a 'Kriegsgefangenpost' card from Stalag IXA, where he has become POW Nr 142942. I have two of these postcards dated late in 1944, which are written in pencil, and are reassuring, if necessarily extremely brief. He was repatriated late in 1945, and married the Red Cross nurse who had been assigned to look after him. I remember him telling us afterwards that early in 1945 gunfire could be heard in the camp, and seemed to be getting nearer in the East than in the West. Then one morning they woke up to find the guards gone, and the camp gates open. The prisoners gathered to discuss what should be done. Many favoured sitting tight waiting to be liberated. My uncle Bert was among those who feared that the Russians might well get there before the Allies, and take them into a new captivity. He joined a group who decided to set out on foot westwards, in the hope of reaching the advancing Allies. Hungry and nearly exhausted after several days on the road, they reached an abandoned farm, where there were still a few cows and some chickens. With shelter and the promise of milk, eggs and meat available, it was decided to hole up there and hope that the Allies would reach them first. During the weeks that followed they were able to trade eggs, milk and vegetables for cigarettes, German sausages & other valuables with the fleeing troops and refugees who passed, until the Allies did actually arrive. He went on to have a successful career and raise five sons before he died in 1981.
William Schofield "Mac " Mc Knight Royal Army Medical Corps
My father william Mc Knight became a POW on Crete where he gave himself up as he was ill and the Cretians who were hiding him had no medicine. He was in Stalag 8b where he took part in a concert of the Mikado, he was one of the three little maids from school we did have a few photos but they were lost. If anyone remembers him or has any photos of the concert I would love to hear from you. He was repatriated at some point before March 1944 as that was when he married my mum, he spent some time in the Q.A. hospital at Shenley on his return to Britain. Any help would be greatly appreciated thanks
Bert Key
My father, Bert Key, was in the Royal Army Medical Corps, and was captured about the time of the Dunkirk evacuation. He was cut off with four other men while trying to rescue some wounded men who were needing attention. In the Camp he was in several shows which were put on and also he was in charge of the medical stores.
I was 10 when we last saw him (Christmas 1945) and 15 when he returned. What a waste of years. Mum and I missed him and we lived in London when he was missing. We heard he was a POW during the blitz and his first letter told my mother to 'take Shirley and get out of London', which she did. We were reunited just before the end of the war because he was sent back with some wounded men being repatriated because the Germans knew the Russians would arrive soon.
I regret not asking him more about the camp when he was alive - he died in 1977. He was a lovely man. I have read Sojourn in Silesia by Arthur Evans. I intend to visit the museum with my three adult children this year - any advice would be useful.
Corporal Albert Edward Wood RAMC
My grandfather, Cpl. Albert Edward Wood, from Exeter, was captured at Dunkirk whilst serving at a Casualty Clearing Station (possibly #12). He drew the short straw and had to stay behind to care for the injured at the chateau overlooking the beaches. Whilst being marched to Stalag 8B he lost the use of his legs, and was carried by his comrades to avoid the Nazis shooting him by the side of the road. He spent some time in the hospital wing before being transferred to a standard barrack room. He always impressed me with the way he could serve up any meal into exactly equal portions, a skill he acquired whilst a POW. He was invalided back to England in 1944. He never really talked about the war, and always spoke with contempt about the British command that left him in France. He received two service medals, which he never had any time for, and he never applied for a Dunkirk medal or a POW medal.
Captain Hugh Davidson Miller George Medal
Does anyone remember a Captain Hugh Davidson Miller of the Royal Army Medical Corps? He was billeted in Scarborough, North Yorks, when it was subjected to a heavy raid on 18 March 1941 which started at 8.30pm when 98 enemy planes flew in and bombarded the town with HEs and incendaries. The raid ended with the all clear at 4.30am the next day. Fatalities were high and 3000 buildings were damaged.
Captain Miller showed bravery by crawling under a bombed house on Queens Terrace to administer morphine to those trapped, bombs were were falling around and an unexploded bomb lay only yards from him. I have searched and asked in various newspapers about the brave man as I would love to ask the Civic Society to put a plaque honouring him up on the wall of the now rebuilt house. He was awarded the George Medal at Buckingham Palace. I have tried for years to find anything about him but nothing.
Alisdair " " Murray (d.May 1940)
We had the story from our mother, Alasdair Murray was a great friend of hers [who might have become our step-father we believe] He was killed or missing after Dunkirk. As he was a doctor in civilian life we believe he would have signed on with the RAMC. Any information from people who knew him or whose relatives heard about him would be greatly appreciated by me and my two brothers. as we three are now in our seventies we want to know where he is buried before it is too late for us. We think he would have been about 40 years old that year, but would probably have been between 36 and 45. With many thanks to anyone who can help.
Cpl. Reginald Walter Smith 12 Company Royal Army Medical Corps
My Father, Reginald Walter Smith, enlisted to the RAMC at Norwich in 1931, aged 17, and served as a regular soldier until 1938, when he left and entered management training with BATA Shoes Ltd, but remained on the army reserve list.
He rejoined voluntarily in June 1939, as the likelihood of war became apparent, and was mobilised as a member of 12 Company RAMC with the BEF in September 1939. He was initially stationed at No 1 Base Hospital, Rouen, and later No 2 Base Hospital.
Following the Dunkirk evacuation and as defeat in France became imminent, all personnel were ordered to leave Rouen and make for the channel ports further south, and I believe that he, and others, trekked the 200 miles to Saint Nazaire, before being taken off on the SS Oronsay.
Oronsay, despite being hit by two bombs and listing badly, went back to pick up survivors from the Lancastria, before sailing for England, and disembarking at Falmouth. Personnel were dispersed across the country, and my Father was sent to Leeds, before eventually being sent to North Africa where he remained for the duration of the war.
I would be particularly interested in any other recollections linked with my Father's time in France, especially his arrival (HS Maid of Kent?) and the period between leaving Rouen and arriving at Saint Nazaire
Major Percy " " Howe
I'm trying to find info on my Grandfather, Mjr. Percy Howe, all I know is he met my Grandmother at Caserta when she was a nurse there and he was based at Monte Cassino with the Royal Army Medical Corps.
Major James Stirling "Seamus" Kinnear Royal Army Medical Corps
I would love to hear from anyone who served in RAMC with my father, Major James Kinnear, in Iceland, E.Africa, Normandy. The snatches of wartime reminiscence to me as a young girl in the 50's are so bitty, humorous and tragic. He went on after the war to be a great surgeon in Dundee. He died aged 67, in 1980. Please contact me with any memories or service info. Thank you
Pte. Joseph "Smokey Joe" Gardner Royal Army Medical Corps
I am trying to find out more information about my grandfather, Joseph (Smokey Joe) Gardner during the war. He served in the RAMC and was taken Prisoner of War at Doullens in 1943 and held at Stalag XXA. On 17th October 1943 he joined a Repratraion party and was repatriated from Goteborg, Sweden in 1943. From what I understand he went back to Germany after the war ended as a member of working party to assist in the re-building of Germany. He is no longer alive and did not talk about what happened to him during the time that he was a Prisoner of War. All I can say is that he was very keen on football and I feel sure that he would have played a huge part in any matches that were held within the camp.
Pte. Andrew "Sonny" Wright Royal Army Medical Corps
I am looking for any information on my grandfather Andrew Wright's experiences during the war. We know that he was in the Royal Army Medical Corps stationed in Africa until he was transferred to defend Crete from invasion where he was captured in 1941 and spent the remainder of the war as a POW we think in Stalag 8b in Silesia Poland. He was sometimes known as Sonny and kept his spirits up by keeping pigeons and acting in plays. Does anyone remember him or have any information about him, it would be really appreciated.
Patrick James Cullenat Royal Army Medical Corps
My Granddad, Patrick Cullen, served in the Royal Army Medical Corps and I believe was captured in Belgium in 1940, unfortunately I don't know which prison camp he was held in. He enlisted in Birmingham in 1939 and was originally from the Moore Street area of Dublin. Does anyone have any information or memories? Any information will be gratefully received.
Cpl. Daniel O'Callaghan Royal Army Medical Corps
I would like to find any one who knew my Danny O'Callaghan, he served with the 15th Scottish Division.
My father, William John Jenkins was in the RAMC and was captured in North Africa. He was taken to Sulmona in Italy and then was taken to Germany. He told of the the reaction of the local German populace of the RAF's carpet bombing. The prisoners were in fear of their lives as the populace wanted to to kill them all. It was only the intervention of the German soldier guards that prevented a massacre. Does anyone else know of this?
I would love to trace a army type R.A.M.C Named Arthur Alexander Cook {Alex] taken prisoner at Dunkirk whilst looking after looking after allied wounded on the beach. He was my Uncle and after repatriation and recovered from TB I spent a few happy holidays with him whilst he was my uncle we were both very compatible. I know that he thought the camadner of 8 b was a very nice army type and was known to punish his own troops if they interfered with the Red Cross parcels, I also know that he did do some tree felling and had a knuckle injury, a great guy , would love to hear from anyone who he was known to.
On the 1 November 1939 my friend Cyril Allcock and I received our call-up papers with instructions to report to Heywood Barracks in Leeds. As a farm worker from West Breton near Wakefield I had never been to Leeds, though it was only about 10 miles away. Cyril had been there once and thought he knew where the barracks was, so off we went. When we arrived we were all given a card to hold with a number on, mine was number eight. Several hours later, all number eight's were told to fall in and get onto trucks, we had no idea why or where we were going. Our destination wasn't far away however, as we pulled up at Beckets Park, Headingley, and our introduction to army life really started.
As we got off the truck, we were lined up and marched up to the front of Carnegie College where a big fat man wearing a Sam Brown belt and boots that shone like mirrors was standing at the top of the steps. He gave us a welcoming speech along the lines of, "You are in the Army now whether you like it or not. I am your Sergeant Major. Sergeant Majors aren't born, we are appointed by God. Anything you get from now on is through the goodwill of the government; you have no rights to anything. You are here to do as you are told and I can do whatever I like to you, except get you in the family way, and I can have damn good try at doing that!"
With that warm welcome ringing in our ears, we were marched off to Cavendish House and allocated rooms, three men to a room, with Straw palliases to sleep on. We were only given one blanket so we had to use our great coats to keep warm. Matters weren't made any better when the joiners came and removed all the bedroom doors the next day! We also got our first taste of army food, two sardines, two slices of bread and a knob of margarine on a tin plate. Quite a contrast to the hearty meals I was used to eating on the farm.
We stayed at Beckets Park until late February 1940 doing our basic training. We did our share of square bashing under Staff Sergeant Hunter who later became our Sergeant major. Blisters from the ill fitting army boots crippled most people. At the end of it I was posted to the Royal Army Medical Corps, 18th General Hospital.
In late February 1940, with snow covering the ground, we were marched with full kit to the tram stop and thence by tram to Leeds railway station, where we boarded a train for Southampton. This was the start of a journey that seemed never ending. At Southampton docks we were given a tin of Bully Beef and some dog biscuits before boarding an ex Isle of Man steamer called the Ben Me Cree. We spent the rest of the day anchored in the Solent before sailing at midnight for France, arriving at Le Havre the next morning.
France
We were then put on a French train with coaches more like cattle trucks; the wooden seats were rock hard, and set out for Rouen, a journey that took 39 hours! When we finally arrived in Rouen, we halted in the station for a while, then set off back the way we had come for about three miles, where we halted for 30 minutes or so, then went back to Rouen. This shunting too and fro’ continued for several hours as we made the journey 4 or 5 times. I seem to recall there was a dogfight going on above us some of the time.
We finally arrived in Etaples, our destination, the following afternoon and were marched off towards Boulogne and a campsite almost opposite a First World War cemetery. The area of the campsite had been used in the First World War and there were well-preserved dugouts among the sand dunes. Many of these had old soldiers names on the walls and there were munitions lying around including lots of 303 bullets. It seemed quite strange to be back in the same places where the last generation had fought the Germans before.
I remember the campsite well, we had one cold water tap to serve all our needs, and the first person up in the mornings had to light a fire under it to thaw it out, so we could get washed and shaved, it was so cold! We slept in Nissen huts that had one inch gaps between the floor boards, making them draughty and cold, so unless you were huddled round the one coal fired stove in the hut, you were always cold.
I had my twenty- first birthday in February, and my mother had made me a wonderful birthday cake. She was a wonderful cook and could ice a cake like a professional. So she pooled all their rations together to make me a cake, and sent it off in a parcel. Sadly it never reached me as the ship carrying it over was sunk.
The tents for the hospital finally arrived so we became operational. In March the weather got much warmer, so warm in fact, we were able to swim in the sea at Le Touquet. Our first wounded soldiers arrived around the same time, they were French, and we began to realise that we really were at war.
Just how true that was came home to us in April when German aircraft bombed Le Touquet airport. We all ran for the slit trenches in the woods nearby and the German aircraft began to machine gun us as we ran, at times the bullets seemed to be on my heels. Luckily we all made it to the woods, where we found our Matron, a veteran of the First World War, with the medals to prove it, calmly sitting in the slit trench knitting!
Retreat to Boulogne.
As May progressed, it became clear things were going badly, and by the third week in May we learned that the Germans had taken Arras, only 40 miles away. We were ordered to evacuate the hospital and make our way to the coast as best we could. We set off to march as we had no transport and were attacked by German aircraft at regular intervals. At one point, I remember the planes coming and I managed to jump over a barbed wire fence to get into some woods, landing in a bed of nettles. I lay in those nettles for what seemed like hours and never got stung once. When the planes disappeared I had great difficulty climbing back over the fence that I had cleared so effortlessly when the planes attacked!
We finally found some transport but had to abandon it after only a mile or so, as there were so many civilians on the roads trying to escape from the Germans, it was impossible to move. There were thousands of people all trying to carry their children and what possessions they could, so they moved very slowly, and of course there was chaos every time the German planes attacked.
In the end we made it to Boulogne cross-country, and found the town ablaze, not just from the bombing but also from the piles of equipment being destroyed. It was terrible to see mountains of brand new equipment being burned and blown up. Finally, a ship came into the docks to collect us. The Irish Guards came off the ship to form the rear guard to allow us to escape; they left all their heavy equipment on board and were in action within about an hour of leaving the ship.
It was chaos at the docks with French civilians begging to be taken to safety on the ships, and troops were shooting their own fingers and toes off to get a place as wounded. All the time there were explosions from burning equipment.
We helped to load a lot of French wounded, including several high-ranking officers, then sailed for England. As we left, there were depth charges going off all around us but once we got out to sea, it was flat calm.
When we reached Dover, three of the badly wounded French Colonels sprang off their stretchers and ran off the ship! We weren't too impressed by that. In Dover the WVS were waiting and we got our first hot cup of tea in five days, we had practically lived on cigarettes during the evacuation. We looked a sorry sight, our uniforms were torn and dirty, and none of us had been washed or shaved for days. But we were home and we were safe and grateful for that.
England summer of 1940.
From Dover we went by train to the RMAC Headquarters at Tidworth to be re-kitted out, then on by train to Peterborough where we spent the long hot summer of 1940. The Army was asked to supply volunteers to help get in the harvest and most of the farm workers were delighted to do it. So for most of the summer we helped to get the harvest in and got £5 a week from the farmer for helping. It was the most money I had earned up until then.
In the autumn we moved to Pinewood’s Hospital at Crowthorne. One night we were having a drink at the Iron Duke pub when a bomb landed nearby. It had probably been jettisoned by a German plane. We all dived under the bar where we stayed for 30 minutes while a dogfight raged overhead. When we walked home we found the principal of the local Broadmoor Hospital had been impaled on some iron railings by the bomb blast.
In September we moved to Edinbrough where we stayed for three weeks, then by train to Gurrock where we boarded a ship called the Volendam, for Egypt. The voyage took eleven weeks! We stopped off in Cape Town along the way where we had 4 days leave. I remember when we left, the decks were piled high with cases of oranges. This was a real treat as they were in very short supply in England.
Egypt late 1940.
In Egypt we joined a tented hospital on the Suez Canal where we had a lot of East African soldiers as patients. After the doctors round one morning, one of the patients asked me to write a letter to his mother for him. I readily agreed, but was amazed when he told me his second wife was causing trouble at home and he wanted to ask his mother to sell her and buy a cow!
I bought some gold in Egypt for my wife's wedding ring. We could tell how the war in the desert was going by the price of gold. If the price went up the Germans were winning and if it fell we were! So I hung on until we were winning and got a good price. Sadly, the gold never reached home; it was sunk on the ship carrying my parcel home.
All was going well in Egypt when we were told to pack up again and take the train to the docks, where we boarded the SS Andes, for Singapore. Sadly Singapore fell before we got there, so we were diverted to Ceylon. The Andes was a terrific ship and was fast enough to sail un-escorted, as it was too fast for submarines to keep up. There were a lot of tough Australians on the ship and they were terrific gamblers, playing dice for huge stakes. It got so bad, the officers tried to stop their pay to prevent them gambling, and there was nearly a mutiny. Many of them were placed under arrest and as a punishment they had to wait on all the medical staff for the rest of the voyage, so we were well looked after.
In Ceylon, we transferred to a French ship seized from Vichy Prance and it was filthy, we had to scrub it from top to bottom. Even worse, the food was terrible. There were weevils in the flour, so we were eating them. We landed in Karachi and got shore leave, then set sail again and ended up back in Ceylon! We stayed there a week, and then went back to Karachi where we were anchored, and confined to the ship for 11 days! We finally repeated this process of sailing between Ceylon and Karachi four times before landing. From Karachi, we went by train to Bombay, where we stayed for a week before going up to Puna. Our mob was split up there and I went on to Secundrabad for a year and then to Bangalore where we set up a hospital.
Once again we had some African wounded who had been fighting the Japanese, and as I was helping one of these soldiers to get undressed and into bed, I noticed a string round his neck with some wizened bits of something strung on it. I tried to get him to put it in his locker, but he got very upset and wouldn't let me. When I asked him why, he said it was his "Ju Ju" and when I asked him what the Ju Ju was, he said they were Japanese ears!
When we got leave, we often had little money to spend and sometimes we spent the leave in Barracks. On one occasion, we got hold of some Nisams rum and got roaring drunk. That wouldn't have mattered too much, but as soon as I had a drink of water or tea over the next few days, it set me off again. I seemed to be drunk for days. It was nearly three weeks before I fully recovered from it, and it put me off drinking for a long time, in fact I have never been drunk since.
A year later we went to Madras, to a 3000 bed hospital, and I finished the war there. It was a very hot and humid place, no sooner had you got dressed after a shower than you were wet through again. I was finally de mobbed in May 1945.
For someone who had never travelled the thirty miles to Leeds before being called up, I certainly made up for it in the army.
In February 2005, for my 86th birthday, I got a wonderful surprise from my colleagues in the British Legion when a brown paper parcel containing my ‘missing’ 21st birthday cake was presented to me, together with a story of its travels since it left home for France 65 years earlier!
Clarence Graham.
On 4 June 1944, just over four years after escaping from Dunkirk, I moved from our camp near Droxford to Portsmouth. I was now a captain in the RAMC. We were marching towards our landing craft at Stokes Bay when I was disappointed to be told that Operation 'Overlord' had been postponed. We were shut in at a local school where we spent the night. On 5 June we finally made our way to our landing craft and sailed for France in the evening with the plan to land at Sword Beach the next day. There was no room for sleeping, so I played bridge with three other officers all night. On the boat I had about 20 of my company of the 9th Field ambulance with me along with the HQ Company and CO of the 1st King’s Own Scottish Borderers (KOSB). We beached at about midday. We had practised this many times before, always getting very wet, but for the first time ever it was a dry landing. The beach was under heavy shell fire and I saw many dead soldiers and damaged landing craft.
First off the boat was the KOSB piper, lustily playing his bagpipes, which must have scared the Germans. I followed shortly with my men, who had been issued with folding bicycles. These were rather unpopular and some people had threatened to throw them overboard, but this didn’t happen. I had a heavy pack on my back and an ordinary bicycle laden with a lot of medical equipment; it wasn’t the easiest thing to push across the sand. We hastily got off the beach into Lion-sur-Mer and then our job was to cycle into Caen, but sadly we were held up by confusion as 9th Brigade HQ was wiped out by enemy fire and Brigadier Cunningham badly wounded. This was followed by the advance to the coast between us and the Canadians by the 21st Panzer Division, so our move to Caen was halted.
During the evening hundreds of planes came in, towing gliders and dropping ammo' and other supplies. Sadly, they were routed over our ships, which were being attacked by German planes, so some of our planes were shot down by mistake. I and my men spent the night searching the area where the Norfolk regiment had suffered 150 casualties from a German strongpoint called Hillman, which was not captured until the next day. In a cornfield, we found a few wounded who had not been found earlier.
In the morning of 7 June my jeep and motorcycle arrived, and I rejoined the KOSB. They were advancing towards Anisy where the 21st Panzer Regiment were located. We soon cleared the town. I was very concerned that no provision had been made for dealing with wounded civilians during the invasion and I made a point of looking out for them. In Anisy I found a 15-year-old girl in one of the houses who had lost most of her left arm. I bandaged her up, not helped by a KOSB soldier firing through the window. Luckily he missed us. Madeleine, a very brave girl, and her parents asked me what I could do. She needed hospital treatment but the nearest hospital was in Caen and still in German hands. In those days I could speak very good French and I said I thought I could get her to England. They agreed and my driver and I loaded her on the jeep, which had room for two stretchers. We then set off to the coast. Madeleine told me that she knew the best route, via Plumetot, so we followed her instructions. As we got near Plumetot the road was being heavily shelled by both sides, and I realised that we had crossed the allied lines and were now in no-man's-land.
We drove into the town, which appeared to be deserted but was being shelled (probably by our 25 pounders). We had probably now crossed over into German-held territory. Leaving the town going round a corner I saw a German staff car parked on the road with a German officer sitting in the passenger seat apparently looking at his map. It seemed very odd. He must have heard us, but was sitting quite still in the car. We parked the jeep and I got out and walked up to the car, only to find that he was dead, but still sitting quite upright. I thought it would be a good idea to bring the dead officer and his maps back with us, but I needed to work out a way to get back across the German lines into no-man's-land and back to allied territory without being shot by the Germans or our own side.
I then realised what to do: I climbed into the German car next to the dead officer but found that it wouldn’t start. Luckily we had a tow rope. My driver with Madeleine in the jeep led the way, towing the German car. I sat beside the German captain, who from a short distance still looked alive, and I steered his car. Shortly before we reached the coast I met our front line, greatly to the surprise of the British Officer in Command who was wondering what to do with a British jeep towing a German staff car being steered by a British officer with a German officer sitting next to him! The Germans must have been equally confused and they also didn’t fire at us.
We reached the coast and found Captain Stevenson of the 9th Field Ambulance and he promised me that he would evacuate Madeleine to England. The German car and officer were left, and my driver and I rejoined the KOSB. They were in a wood near Cambes, which was being heavily mortared, the shells bursting in the trees causing casualties. It wasn’t helped by one of our tanks thinking we were the enemy. Later on, the 7th Divisional Commander General Rennie (sadly killed while crossing the Rhine) sent for me to thank me for bringing in the maps and reporting that Plumetot was clear of Germans. A KOSB motor-cyclist also told me that he had met and killed the German officer and his driver, who was lying in a ditch at the side of the road unnoticed by me.
In the evening the RVR attacked towards Combes with tanks but failed mainly because our tanks blew up at once after being hit by German 88 guns. After dark my driver and I went out but were only able to find one wounded man. The next day, 8 June, after three nights of no sleep, I was relieved and slept for 24 hours, non-stop. My driver was excellent and I put him up for decoration and he received the Military Medal.
Madeleine reached England and was fitted with an artificial arm and was sent to a school in the Lake District until it was safe for her to return to France. I later moved on through Holland and Germany, finishing the war in Luebeck on the Baltic coast.
Paul Riley
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Celebrate your own Family History
Celebrate by honouring members of your family who served in the Secomd World War both in the forces and at home. We love to hear about the soldiers, but also remember the many who served in support roles, nurses, doctors, land army, muntions workers etc.
Please use our Family History resources to find out more about your relatives. Then please send in a short article, with a photo if possible, so that they can be remembered on these pages.
We are currently conducting a survey of users to improve the website, please could you spare a few moments to complete our survey?
The Wartime Memories Project is a non profit organisation run by volunteers.
This website is paid for out of our own pockets and from donations made by visitors. The popularity of the site means that it is far exceeding available resources.
If you are enjoying the site, please consider making a donation, however small to help with the costs of keeping the site running.
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